


In The Next Life

by The_Ocean_Deep



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ocean_Deep/pseuds/The_Ocean_Deep
Summary: One shot. Loyalty to her calling battles with loyalty to her heart. The child of Tenebrae cannot let her steps falter, though her home, dignity, and freedom were taken from her. Fighting against growing defiance and grief, Lunafreya struggles forward to fulfill the role she was born to play.  A character study of Lunafreya, for she so desperately needed fleshing out!





	In The Next Life

**A/N: This fic was inspired by the song 'If Only' by Maria Taylor.**  
...................................

It was a week before her fourth birthday when the kindly woman first appeared in her bedchambers. She was ethereal, her silhouette a beautiful shape against the moonlit curtains that swayed with the merciful breeze of that stifling August night. Lunafreya sat nestled in her sheets, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity as the stranger greeted her with gentle formality. Gentiana’s olive green eyes were captivating in their softness and her silken voice spoke of many wondrous things, filling the child with giddy anticipation. The knowledge that she’d inherit the role of Oracle from her mother was something she’d been aware of since she’d taken her first toddling steps around Fenestala Manor. But the news that she’d be the one to aid the Chosen King and save Eos was almost too exciting to bear. The lady with long, black hair placed a tender palm upon Luna’s forehead as she told her of the arrival of a prince. He’d been born that very day in a country across the world, and it was her duty to protect and help him. The boy would grow and fulfill the prophecy with the Oracle aiding his cause.

When Lunafreya asked how she could protect this baby boy if he lived far beyond the great sea, Gentiana had only smiled and said:  
 _“It has been ordained by the Gods: together, you will bring the light back to our star. Fate will not keep you apart for long, Princess.”_

Eyes heavy with sleep and promise, the little princess had been mystified. Her dreams were filled with visions of steel and fire and the expanse of deep blue waves, but Lunafreya was not afraid. Her spirit began whispering in the lucidity of her dreams, calling out to this mysterious boy child. She adored little babies just as she adored the slow appearance of the stars at twilight. Searching for his little spirit in the safety of their dreams, she yearned to hold his tiny fingers and tell him to never worry: she’d make sure he would be alright. 

… … …

The gardens were their favorite place. Mother’s crown of metal and ice sparkled like fresh morning dew, her smile as comforting as the earthy scent of the foliage. Most days, she and Ravus spent the majority of time in their classes or with their dear father, for many things demanded Queen Sylva’s time. But her late afternoons belonged to Lunafreya. The girl’s steps were light with glee as they pattered through the leafy trails. When they were together, she felt as if she and Mother were like the birds that circled the great blue: happy and free, flying above the clouds.

Queen Sylva tickled her with the stems of flowers or her slender fingers, chasing her through the dirt pathways until they panted for breath, the bottom of their skirts soiled with dirt. Luna was pulled into her arms as peppering kisses were placed upon her cheek, the pair sitting at the base of a large, ancient tree. Contentment swam through her heart as she leaned her head into her mother’s chest, blue eyes bright as she gazed up at her face. It was then that things turned a bit serious, as they sometimes did, when they sat alone and talked about the Starscourge. Mother had become Oracle at the age of thirty. Under Grandmother’s close tutelage, Sylva had learned all she needed to know to drive back the blight. There was a small feeling of pride and excitement in Lunafreya’s chest when she considered that one day, she’d have a job as important as that. But as badly as she wanted to help guard the light, she couldn’t bear the thought of a world without her mother. 

The Oracle looked into her daughter’s eyes and spoke. 

_"Sweet Luna, we do not ascend to our place as Oracle so that our lives will be glorious and satisfying. We ascend because we are ready to give our lives and bodies as a sacrifice for others and for the greater good. None of us can escape this destiny_

The girl had looked at her mother then, a strange sinking feeling spreading like a sickness in her chest—clenching and twisting. An undefined sadness seemed to have fallen about her like a heavy mist, though she did not completely understand the queen’s words. But Mother only smiled, smoothing her hair and kissing her brow. By the time evening had fallen, Lunafreya had already forgotten her previous worries. But as she and Ravus chased the fireflies in the courtyard, the girl realized that the lurking feeling of dread would never leave her for long. Her little fist closed gently around a firefly and she turned her palm to open upwards. The bug crawled slowly along her skin, flashing its captivating light. Blonde eyebrows drew together in concentration. She wouldn’t fail to protect the light. She couldn’t. It would be in her hands, after all.

… … …

It had taken so long for life to feel normal again.

As they’d always done in the summer months, Lunafreya and Ravus swam in the pond and lay on their backs in the sun to dry. Tenebrae was always quite warm, but she wasn’t certain if it was the stifling humidity or her inner turmoil that made it hard to breathe. Father’s death had shaken her, like a solitary autumn leaf in the wind, opening her eyes to the sacred fragility of life. The funeral was grand: flowers and ribbons and guests flooded her home, and it was the first time that Lunafreya began to associate the scent of sylleblossoms with anything other than joyous afternoons in the sun. Her twelve years had not prepared her for anything this devastating. Turning her head to look toward her brother, her pale eyes reflected how deeply she mourned the loss of the usual jovial nature of their afternoon swims. Even this little ritual had been hollowed by the loss of their father. Ravus understood, wordlessly putting his hand atop her forearm as billowing clouds crawled across the cerulean heavens.

That evening, the King of Lucis arrived with his injured son in tow. As Lunafreya bowed her head in greeting, she noticed the blackness marring the prince’s leg and arm: unmistakably an infection of the Starscourge. He’d been injured by a daemon. The pair had come to seek Queen Sylva’s healing hand, for as Oracle, she could cure ailments of the dark blight. It hurt to know that her mother could heal this child and hundreds of other people from the Scourge, but that she had been helpless to save her husband from his death sentence. Quickly, she quelled the little bubbles of anger that threatened to rise into her chest. Any frustration drained away from her when she looked upon the face of the little Prince of Lucis.

He was small for a child of eight years. His head and face were round and soft, but his slender body was a collection of gangly limbs, reminding Lunafreya of a lollipop. The prince’s head was bent forward in shyness and sadness, his fingers loosely gripping the arm rests of his wheelchair. Although she could barely see them, it was the look of despair in Prince Noctis’s eyes that made her heart crumble like a sandcastle in the surf. He was too young to feel such hopelessness. And as her mother pressed her forehead to his, light shined brilliantly from the Oracle’s magic and Lunafreya’s body stiffened. All at once, voices whispered violently in her head and her eyes widened in alarm. For the first time in her life, she understood the foreign, ancient tongue of the Astrals as their chanting grew louder and louder within the confines of her skull. 

_“Child, chosen by the Crystal. Savior to our star! King of Light, the one True King!”_

Numbness shivered through her, settling in her fingertips and toes. It was then that she knew Prince Noctis was the boy she’d been ordained to aid, protect and support. Lunafreya struggled in that moment, emotions swirling in a tempest of awe, excitement and icy dread. But when the boy lifted his head and fixed his trusting eyes on Queen Sylva, everything suddenly seemed clear. And as she watched her mother smile and cup a loving hand upon Noctis’s cheek, a single emotion rose above the rest. When she watched his nervous gaze turn to meet hers before quickly shifting to the floor, all Lunafreya felt was determination.

Lunafreya was encouraged to keep the boy company during his stay in Tenebrae. Because of the nature of his injury, and the degree in which he had been infected with the scourge, it would require several sessions with Queen Sylva over the course of a handful of weeks to heal. His eyes were those awaiting judgement or reproach for his weakness, for his trembling hands and legs left weak and brittle from his injury. Lunafreya at once felt foolish to have harbored a secret fear to one day meet the King of Light. The thought of him had often crept into her absent thoughts in the earliest hours of the morning: this boy of importance who would surely be raised in a serious, harsh way to embody him strength and resolve. But the softness of his face and the uncertainty in his eyes had silenced any anxiety in her heart, replacing it with glee that spilled onto her features. Her efforts earned his shy smiles and fledgling trust.

Lunafreya gathered all of her gentile and softness, placing it into his hands. In return, Noctis handed her the key to his guarded heart.

And so, it hadn’t been as hard as she expected to coax Prince Noctis out of his shell. It was easy to play fetch from his wheelchair or cuddle with Umbra and Pryna as a reward for testing the strength of his legs to climb onto her bed. He seemed to worry about whether or not she’d grow tired of him, since he could not run and play as other children do. But she assuaged his fears as best as she could, suggesting they play with paints and toys while commiserating over their lessons and other woes of being children of royalty. Her cheeks hurt from all the smiles and laughter they’d shared during those precious weeks together. Despite the occasional disruption, the pair was together daily from breakfast until bedtime.

She’d almost felt reluctant to speak of the prophecy, fearing the seriousness would spoil the carefree nature of their days, like an ink blot upon a blank sheet of paper. But instead, it had filled Noctis with wonder. Together, they read through the richly illustrated pages of her Cosmogeny book, and she watched as his eyes grew wide with intrigue. With a smile on her face, she informed him that he was the one destined to become the King of Light. Noctis held onto her every word, as he always did since they’d met. Fledgling pride had awakened within him, manifesting in the brightness of his smile as he imagined that he could one day be something great. The young prince was only reassured when she revealed her own role in this story, her heart feeling a bit lighter now that he was aware of their ordained partnership. Luna would make sure that he wouldn’t meet his storms alone; she’d hold his hand through it all if she could help it. 

The afternoon before Noctis’s final session with Queen Sylva, the princess found herself wrought with anxiety. Knowing the prince would be departing for home woke her from the reverie she’d been living in, existing in the daily pleasure of their time together and ignoring the reality that it was limited. Mother suggested to her that they become pen pals in the spaces of time between visits in order to stay connected. She chose a handsome little book of red leather with a design of sylleblossoms in glossy gold, imagining what sort of messages might fill the blank pages. Fingers pressed into the bound spine, Lunafreya presented the notebook to Noctis, praying he would be amenable to the idea. His eager smile filled her with hope.

It had been a great relief to relax. Together with Noctis, she could laugh without the weight of their fates suffocating them and shake away the formal expectations of a prince and princess. They shared understanding of the pressures and hardships of a life in which they were drawn forward towards the throne without consent. Their companionship was a comfort to the parts of them that remained children, despite life’s demand of their blithe nature to be replaced with solemnity. He had shown her that despite their prophesized roles, the Prince of Lucis was a normal person underneath, just like she was. How silly it had been to fear meeting the Chosen, for the boy was full of light and glee underneath his shroud of trepidation and sadness. He trusted her and gave her his heart, and so she fell in love with the purity and sweetness of his soul. The gravity of her presence drew his true self out into the open, and it made her believe that she could be more than just an Oracle—his Oracle. 

Maybe, she could be his dearest friend.

… … …

Detailed arrangements had been made for Noctis’s final healing session and the lighthearted farewell ceremony that was to follow. All morning, servants were bustling about and the delicious scent of the celebratory banquet preparations tantalized her nose. The ceremony was to be held in the Sacred Meadow. Lunafreya skipped through the grove of ancient trees, holding onto the handlebars of Noctis’s wheelchair as she pushed him forward. Across the meadow, a small crowd was gathered for the joyful event. Mother was smiling, Brother was smiling, and King Regis let his happiness and gratitude radiate from his features and gestures. But what excited her most was the way the prince happily chattered to her as they approached. What a difference from the day he’d arrived: sullen and somber; Lunafreya knew that his stay in Tenebrae had healed him in more ways than one. 

The roar of the surrounding waterfalls disguised the noise of the magitek aircraft. Before Lunafreya and Noctis could join the others, hell rained down from the sky.  
Magitek infantrymen and Niflheim soldiers split through the dense canopy, dropping from the heavens like black rain and shaking the ground like thunder. In an instant, screams were sounding and metal clashing as the handful of Tenebrae guards present tried to hold their own against the vast horde of the empire. Lunafreya held fast as the chaos played out around her and Noctis, like a lucid dream with the heat of fire and the heavy, metallic scent of blood. Meters ahead, she saw her brother standing still in the chaos, looking to and fro with a detached sense of terror written upon his features. He didn’t see the flamethrower aimed at his head, but Mother did. Her body was engulfed by the flames, a human shield for her firstborn. But it wasn’t the fire that killed Queen Sylva. In a heartbeat, General Glauca ran her through with his sword—the tip of the blade stopping inches from Ravus’s face as he kneeled behind his mother, helpless in the face of such horror.

 

Lunafreya was no different. She was frozen: gloved hands gripping the wheelchair as if it was the only thing anchoring her frightened, confused spirit to this world. The princess may have remained unmoving for a long time if not for Noctis’s terrified screams for his father, his arms stretched desperately forward as King Regis sprinted toward them. The need to protect the Chosen King of Light and her affections for him as her friend weren’t the only things that kept her glued to his side in the midst of the violent tornado of gore and death. For the first time since her father departed this world, Lunafreya felt like the vulnerable child she really was. In moments, Regis had scooped up his son and grabbed her hand, turning to run from the battle. Blind with grief and shock, she tripped along behind him as his fingers held fast to hers. Ravus’s screams for help rattled her to her core, his voice hoarse with anguish and terror and raw desperation. And Lunafreya made her choice.

The girl let go. She dug her heels into the earth, detaching herself from King Regis’s hand and the safety it promised her. In the frenzy of the moment and the whirling storm of her scattered thoughts, one thing was clear: she could not abandon her brother, her home, her calling. This decision went far beyond the need for safekeeping, comfort and the preservation of her own happiness, for that was not what she’d been born to enjoy. She was ordained by the Gods to carry out a very specific and heavy task. Her very existence was for this one purpose and Lunafreya refused to reject it. Mother was dead and it was time for her to ascend as Oracle. Hiding away in Insomnia would keep her from fulfilling her destiny and thus prevent Noctis from fulfilling his. The knowledge that Ravus was not strong enough in spirit to endure Niflheim’s conquest alone only strengthened her resolve.

The King of Lucis called her name, but he did not stop running. The only thing that imprinted upon her memory was the broken sobs from Noctis as he called out to her, his body draped over his father’s shoulder. The last she saw of her friend was his little hand outstretched toward her as they disappeared from her sight, the sea of Magitek swallowing her in a dark wave of steel and gun smoke. When she could no longer see Noctis’s panicked eyes or Regis’s broad shoulders, terror and nausea lurched up inside her throat. Lunafreya’s eyes grew wild, crippling fear rushing through her veins. She spun around to look for her brother only to collide with cold metal armor with the face of a daemon: the man who killed her mother. He grabbed her wrist, sharp steel biting into her flesh, but she did not cry out. General Glauca’s face plate hid his features from view, but Lunafreya fixed him with an unwavering stare until he struck the side of her face. The princess fell to her knees, wrist still in his iron grip as hot pain radiated from her cheek. 

Somewhere in the frenzy behind her, she could hear Ravus whimpering over their mother’s corpse. The girl didn’t turn her head to search for him, for her neck ached furiously from the force of being struck. Tears welling in her eyes made all everything blend together in a trembling mess, but Luna kept her face straight as Glauca dragged her forward. Breath flew out of her lungs when she was tossed at the crumpled figure of Queen Sylva. She hardly felt Ravus’s desperately grasping at her, panicked fingers pawing at her arms and the skirt of her dress, for her entire body tingled with numbness. The heavy scent of blood in the air made her insides roil, forcing her to hold her breath to keep from retching or vomiting. Dizzy with grief and shock and despair, Lunafreya recoiled from the harsh sounds of the Gods whispering to her in their foreign tongues. Her palms instinctively flew to her ears, but of course, they couldn’t drown out the noise that came from within. The only sound she wanted to hear was the soothing reassurance of Mother voice when she woke from this nightmare. 

But it wasn’t a dream. Her mother was dead in the grass before her, her blood spattered across Ravus’s face and soaking into the hem of her white dress. Nevermore would she enjoy the warm comfort of her touch, her scent, or her guidance. Luna couldn’t imagine that the unspeakable pain that wracked through her body and soul was only the beginning of her suffering.

… … …

They were only alone for a handful of minutes, the pair clinging to one another in the parlor. Shell-shocked and bewildered, Ravus and Lunafreya could not speak, only communicating with despairing glances and a trembling embrace. Upon seeing blood marring the sleeve of his jacket, Lunafreya rose shaking hands to gently hold his shoulder and bicep as she tried and failed to coax healing magic into his body. But nothing happened. Luna hadn’t forgotten that an Oracle can only heal ailments of the scourge, and she knew well that she was not yet an Oracle, but the girl had desperately hoped to be able to provide even this small comfort to her older brother. Her training had been nowhere near complete. 

Mere hours after their world had shattered to pieces, Luna and Ravus had their wrists bound before being escorted to the throne room of Fenestala Manor. The familiar halls held an unfamiliar coldness. There would be empty space upon the throne where her mother once sat, where she’d once bounced upon her father’s knee. Memories called out to her like a banshee’s wail as they passed through the halls, but home was here no longer. Home was a place in time, no longer a physical residence but a spiritual one. The portraits of the royal family in the great hall lay sprinkled with ash and it was then Luna understood that never again would anything be the same as it once was.

But when they entered, the throne of Tenebrae was not vacant. Emporer Aldecapt sat in her mother’s place, sneering down at the children as they were shoved to their knees by Glauca. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother bent forward with his blood and soot-smeared face pressed against the cold tile of the floor, more from exhaustion and shock than allegiance to the empire. But Luna kept her neck straight, looking up into the man’s pale eyes. There was something about his gaze and presence that sent shudders fluttering down her spine and caused chilling anxiety to grow inside her belly. 

The emperor looked pleased with himself. Ignoring Ravus, he demanded for the girl to be brought to him. The general lifted her to her feet by the back of her collar and shoved Luna between her shoulder blades to force her compliance. Aldercapt had her turn this way and that, asking about her abilities as the female child born to the Oracle while raking his eyes over her girlish frame. She didn’t dare answer. Instead, she forsook any manners she’d been taught and stared right into the face of the man who would now control their beloved home. No one was here to defend her and her brother now. She recognized fear in his heart as he met her gaze, for he knew that she possessed the potential for power unable to be wielded by any other. Lunafreya was punished for her impudence. Emporer Aldercapt suddenly changed from ice to raging fire, the smack that sounded from his hand upon her face echoed through the grand hall. She stumbled, for it was hard to balance while her hands were bound, but did not fall.

It was ordered that the siblings be separated once they left the throne room. They struggled against the chains that bound them and screamed each other’s names until their throats were hoarse and wracked with sobs. When her brother’s voice could no longer be heard sounding in distant hallways, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Luna knew that the treatment given to Ravus would be quite different than what she received, because while he possessed the blood of the Oracle, he inherited none of the matriarchal powers. She was capable of great magic and the ability to speak with the Gods and interpret their words. Lunafreya wasn’t sure whether or not this put him in more danger or if her brother would suffer less than she would, in the end. Their country had fallen. This was the end of everything they had ever known and it was excruciating to be denied the comfort of her single remaining family member—the only other person who knew exactly what she was feeling. She lets herself scream for him again and again as the storm clouds gathered in the windows, her chains rattling as General Caligo dragged her to her chambers.

The door slammed behind them, the sound resolute and foreboding as the first rumbles of thunder rolled through the stillness. For some reason, Luna is more terrified when he sets her free of her chains than when he had first bound her in them. Her bedchamber has many windows, but night has fallen and the storm continued to brew, shrouding her captor’s towering form in black. When lightning first split the sky, she saw the menacing grin spreading across his features. Childish impulse overcomes her and she runs back toward the door, grasping desperately at the handle. But he had closed all the slide bolts and Luna knows that if she screams, no one will come to her aid. General Caligo grabbed her by her wrist, lifting her painfully off the floor, and she claws at his fist with her free hand as whimpers rose freely from her throat. 

She dangled like a child’s play thing before she was tossed. The floor was hard beneath her palms and her breathing came in short gasps, fingernails scraping against the tiles with the scrambling of her knees. Her blue eyes were wide with fright as she turned to look up at her aggressor and the expression on his face turned her insides to ice. One hand grabbed her jaw while the other lifted her up to push her against the wall. Foul, hot breath ghosted over her skin as he hissed that this is what she deserves for her defiance. She struggled against him. He picked his glove off with his teeth before letting calloused fingertips roam over pale skin. Lunafreya wanted her mother. But Mother is dead out in the Sacred Meadow, her blood staining the sylleblossoms. She choked out a whimper and Caligo squeezed harder, shifting his hold to her neck. For the first time, the girl closes her eyes against those who have stolen away everything that was good and pure and whole.

When he had gone, she lay upon the marble floor shivering. The rain hammered against the windows and thunder shook the earth. When boot steps sounded on the other side of the door, fear was the only thing that encouraged her to move. She hid, back pressed against the wall, and curled her body deep within the heavy silk drapes. Blood trickled slowly over her lips, but she was too stunned and broken to cry. But she was not a child anymore. She was a prisoner, and so was her brother. Oh, Noctis…

Had they truly woken up together that day—limbs tangled and breaths mixed in the same bed? Had they really made faces at each other across the breakfast table and giggled with spoons upon their noses? At this time the night before, they’d slept side by side and dreamed sweetly. And now, the last memory he’d have of her was watching her willingly disappear into the enemy’s clutches.

… … …

The lives of the Flueret children had changed quickly and without warning.

Lunafreya was kept isolated for long days at a time, the lock on her door bolted from the outside. On occasion, she was permitted to share a meal in dining room with Ravus or look out the hall window into the courtyard. But she was always escorted by her servant, Maria, or by armed guards. Frightened, the girl looked to her brother for comfort, but he was always sullen and quiet, eyes heavy with defeat. It felt strange to talk, anyway, since they were always being watched and monitored. She wanted more than anything to hide in the comfort of Ravus’s sharp humor and charming smile. But the Prince of Tenebrae had no smiles for her. His head was bent forward, but Luna kept her neck straight. Their kingdom had been taken from them and she would never wear her mother’s crown. But she would be Oracle, somehow. Though she lacked Queen Sylva’s guidance, she’d have to continue her training. The world depended upon it-- Noctis depended on it.

And yet, as each bleak day crawled into each lonesome night, there was no sign from the Gods no matter how hard she prayed. She’d sit each night, from dusk to dawn, with folded hands that trembled with her voice as she called out for her mother, for the Gods, for anyone. It was unspeakably difficult to be met with deafening silence. Some nights, her abuser would come full of new frustrations that were channeled into the grip of his fists and heated words meant to belittle and intimidate. It was always worse when she screamed and resisted: Lunafreya’s first lesson of her new circumstances. The second lesson was that she had to be silent. There was no running about to play or practicing of piano, even if she had the spirit to do such things. Maria had tried to fetch her mother’s jewelry box, for the princess had always enjoyed admiring Queen Sylva’s brooches, pendants and earrings. But anything of value had been confiscated from the Oracle’s chambers, including such family heirlooms. It hurt to know that precious pieces of her life had been stolen and sold for metal and magitek to further the destruction of sacred things like peace, fairness and liberty.

When Gentiana appeared once again, along with two other messengers of Shiva, she’d let tears spill from her eyes at last. The dogs were precious company and Gentiana a comforting presence, but what brought forth the greatest happiness was the confirmation that the Gods had indeed heard her prayers.

Prince Noctis hadn’t the chance to take the red notebook with him. It remained in its place upon her piano lid since the last time she’d touched it: after they’d plunked upon the keys together and laughed over his clumsy finger work. Under the shroud of night, Luna slid the book from its perch. She hid the light of a small candle by hiding under the piano bench, obscuring its flicker from being seen under the crack of her chamber doors. It was there that she wrote to her dear friend, only the scratching of pen sounding in the dead of night. Lunafreya was tempted to spill out her miseries upon the page, sharing all the cries of her heart with Noctis, but she held back. After all, she could have escaped with King Regis to the safety of Lucis, but her own choice had resulted in her captivity. The poor prince was undoubtedly upset after what had transpired, so she would reassure him. Gentiana’s reappearance had reminded the girl of who she was. She was not to be a frightened, delicate thing that trembled and wept in the face of the death of her stable, pleasant world. Her blood was the blood of Oracles, and she would put her grief to the side because duty called. And as she looked into the mirror and studied her face, Lunafreya knew that it was not just her mother and kingdom that were lost. The little Princess of Tenebrae had disappeared in the chaos and smoke and noise, leaving behind a shell of a person that Luna could not identify. Was she still a princess if she had no kingdom? Was she still a child if she could not smile or laugh or play? She was not an Oracle, but was the only person in the world with the potential to be. As she mourned the loss of her old self, the girl understood that her calling as Oracle to the Chosen King must win above her longing for peace and comfort, for happiness and security.

Lunafreya was not permitted the freedom to walk about Fenestala Manor unaccompanied, let alone contact anyone from the outside. Letter writing and the use of the telephone were forbidden, but she had another plan. Shiva’s messengers could transverse beyond time and space, so she would use that to her advantage. In secrecy, she sent forth Umbra to deliver the notebook to the Prince of Lucis. She would do whatever she had to in order to let Noctis know that although her life had changed, her devotion to him would always stay the same. On the seldom occasion that she was allowed to spend time with Ravus, Luna considered sharing her secret with him. But her brother was no longer her dear confidante. Electric eyes darted about, bitterness hot upon his tongue: cursing the wrath of the Gods, cursing the evaporation of his birthright, and cursing the King of Lucis. Even as the sound of his lashings echoed throughout the courtyard, his anguished cries condemned King Regis as the source of his suffering. And so, Lunafreya kept it to herself.  
Late one evening, General Caligo came, as he sometimes did. She’d sat up in her blankets as her chamber door banged open against the wall, but she knew better than to try to hide. The distinct scent of his breath and the slur of his angry words made her heart race, but she kept her face as featureless as a stone. Gripping fingers clenched white as moisture pooled in her eyes as Luna scrambled to hold together the tattered pieces of what made her who she’d always been. And when she was left alone, Lunafreya let her grief pour out like a bucket toppled over, muffled under pale pillow cases and shame. Every time the sun dipped below the horizon, Luna would pray that the winds of the night wouldn’t howl, that her assailant wouldn’t come, that she would be left alone to search for answers in the dark.

Counting her wounds, the princess took each of her hopes and packaged them away where no one else would ever see them. It wasn’t entirely difficult in the daylight to keep her eyes upon her duties and destiny. If Luna hid her dreams, it would be harder for others to take them away. Silent, whispering pleas in the dead of night went mercifully undetected. She longed to be held by her brother, to hear his comforting optimism that he’d always managed to summon. But the Ravus she’d grown up beside had disappeared behind a veil of grief and ire, and it wasn’t likely that he’d return. The craving for her mother was more cruel than anything else. It was a specific, indescribable torment that permeated all aspects of her being and Luna was helpless to stop it. And so she’d imagine that she was still with her. She’d find her in the scent of sylleblossoms carried in on the breeze, in the gentle patter of rain drops that lulled her to sleep like a sweet song, and in the bravery to hold her head high despite the disintegration of security and peace. It was easier to imagine that neither death nor time could separate them than face the fact that she was alone.

But Lunafreya was careful not to let the decay of all that was beautiful leave her bitter. She was told she was worthless, but she knew better. There was too much upon her shoulders to become discouraged or fail. The pressure and intimidation of becoming the Oracle and her calling to follow in her mother’s footsteps weren’t enough to keep her moving forward. In her loneliness, it was the thought of her time with the young prince and his promise to write back to her that gave her hope. His smile, his laughter, the way he had opened his heart to her were some of the only sources of encouragement that she had.

Sometimes, she could endure her adversity by imagining a world where all her dreams came true. One evening, after Caligo left and barred her door from the outside, Lunafreya wiped her split lip with the back of her hand. She rose from the floor, took a deep breath and began to dance. Oh, how Luna loved to dance! She hadn’t received any formal instruction, and was made to have singing lessons instead, but the girl had always wished to learn this specific art. Slowly, she rose upon her toes. A blood smeared wrist arched over her head as she tilted her neck gracefully, blonde hair shifting over her bare shoulder. How healing it felt to express her emotions silently, allowing her to avoid a scolding.  
As she danced, Lunafreya imagined herself living some other life, where her mother and father and brother were alive and happy, making memories together. She’d perform for them and bring smiles to their faces. The thought allowed her to still the trembling of her hands as she moved her body through the dark, gliding noiseless as an oar.

… … …

She dreamed of rain in sheets. Of ice, of snow, of frost upon blue petals. There were visions of beautiful, spectacular things that made her dread the hour in which she’d wake. But Lunafreya also had visions of frightful, terrible things: of fire and Ravus’s screams and mother’s crown tossed sideways in the grass and flowers. There were never any arms to comfort her when nightmares ripped cries from her throat.

It was rare for Ravus to be found in her quarters. It had been several months since they’d been able to visit one another without permission or walk about their own home freely. She’d been escorted back to her bed chamber one morning to find her brother standing at her desk, red notebook in his hand. For the first time in her life, Luna begged for her brother’s silence. Knees and forehead against the cold floor, she whispered pleas into the hard marble. When he eased her worries, she’d tearfully embraced him, taking in his familiar scent and the foreign nature of his stern face and knotted eyebrows. Luna felt sick at heart after that. It wasn’t only because her secret was exposed, or that her own foolishness had exposed it, but because of the darkness she sensed lurking in Ravus’s heart.

Chin straight, shoulders back, Lunafreya wore her face like a performer’s mask when in the presence of her captors. She’d developed a practiced smile to use in response to their hollow words and incessant commands. It seemed pleasant enough, but was hard to interpret and she liked it that way. Wherever she walked, the eyes of the empire followed. Wisdom allowed her to see that their strict surveillance was the product of their uncertainty over how to handle her. One who possessed the power to commune with the Gods was a potential threat that could not be overlooked. Luna was certain that it was the reason why she was held under lock and key while her brother maintained relative freedom to exist outside of the prince’s chambers.

Noctis had begun to write often; his messages of concern made her eyes fill with tears at the knowledge that there were still people in this world who thought of her and her crushing loneliness. Luna was always tempted to let her pen paint a portrait of her pain upon those pages, sharing the dark details of her new existence, until she remembered that innocent face with hopeful eyes. She tried her best to reassure him that she would be alright. While her heart hurt and her world had crumbled around her, leaving only the screaming silence to echo her deepest insecurities back at her in deafening wails. The girl would admit some of her suffering to her dear friend, but she couldn’t bear to open the boy’s eyes to the true cruelty of her daily life. Luna wouldn’t want to make him suffer, too.

He would never know how cherished his sloppy scrawl was. Lunafreya would run her fingers slowly over glossy stickers, ticket stubs from the cinema or post cards from various Lucian attractions. The prince’s notes weren’t only from a different continent, but he was writing to her from a different world altogether: from a world of peace and comfortable mundanity. It took all of her discipline not to feel envious of simple fishing trips or the liberty to enjoy a treat like ice cream in the marketplace. How grateful she’d be for just one more day at his side—to be a child instead of a prisoner. But her childhood had ended violently and abruptly, and it would never, ever return. Luna prayed that this sweet boy, who hadn’t yet understood the weight of his promise to save the world, would remain innocent and oblivious for as long as possible.

Idle hopes of rescue from this life hovered like empty shadows. But she held on to the feeling of Noctis next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers, as they read together on her bed. The smiles and the laughter echoed in her heart forever, for they were the last happy memories of her girlhood. The secret notes were a blessed distraction from the hard questions that bubbled up inside her, offering the comforting reminder that if she had freedom with nothing else, she still had freedom over her heart. Her heart whispered peace to her as she danced alone: pointed toes and arched back, moving like a wave of the sea. Lunafreya would close her eyes and imagine her broken wings could fly once again as cold rain fell against the glass.

The only belongings of Queen Sylva’s that she was permitted to have were the ancient texts: handwritten tomes from the long line of Oracles before her. They were her only hope to learn what she needed to ascend properly, aside from some of Gentiana’s wisdom. It was easy to recognize her mother’s handwriting amongst the rest. The ways of the Oracle were delicate and complex, like the web of a spider. What a comfort it was to hold the wisdom of her ancestors in her fingers and know that she was far from the only girl to inherit the weight of holding back the Starscourge. Word by word, Luna memorized the wisdom of her mothers before her. How unfortunate that she no longer had Queen Sylva’s hands to guide hers as she learned to use the sacred magic and drown out the cacophony of the Astrals’ voices in her mind.

The Song of the Stars was one she knew by heart since before she’d been weaned. Mother’s voice, smooth as silk, would sing it gently to her as she faded into sleep. But it was no lullaby; it was a tool to summon the Gods. As such, it was the only noise Lunafreya was allowed to make: a sweet voice caroling behind closed doors like a captive nightingale. She beckoned her song from her chest, voice echoing in the tired, dead air of her cage. At night, she’d try to call out to Noctis in her dreams, like she had since she was small. But now, in her waking hours, she’d see him when she closed her eyes. And as she sang and sang, Luna found that she could draw strength from his gentle optimism and unmoving faith in her. 

In the daylight, Luna would sit in the silence and try to communicate with the Astrals. She’d always known that one day, she’d be the Oracle. But coming to understand that she was intended to be the _"Chosen Oracle"_ filled her with numbing terror. It was hard to steel herself in the face of such doubt, for she faced more responsibility than any of her ancestors did. It was overwhelming for a twelve year old to understand that Eos, and all of its inhabitants, relied upon her and the King of Light. Most days, Lunafreya drowned out the ticking of the clock while sitting in the colored light of stained glass, trying to speak to her mother and asking aloud what she might do. She chased mirages of comfort, hoping for calm and consolation, but the silence never gave way. As a leaf might desire to return to the tree from whence it came, Lunafreya struggled against an intense longing for days gone by.

… … …

She was the paragon of hope, so celebrations were widespread. No other Oracle in recorded history had ascended at such a young age. As the world rejoiced, Lunafreya mourned, because it was not by choice or by accomplishment alone that she had risen to such a position. It was difficult to understand how it was appropriate to celebrate when her mother’s death had been the reason her shoulders had inherited such a substantial weight. In her ceremonial robes and headpiece, she wore her practiced, gentle smile. Gripping the handle of her trident, she looked over to the faces of the emperor, the generals, and the rest of those who thought they held her life in their palm. Luna wondered if they would still wear such smug expressions once they realized their attempts to break her had only served as fuel to a defiant spirit.

The Oracle carried the words of the Gods to mankind—the solitary bridge between human beings and the Astral Gods. The Empire allowed her to travel within Tenebrae to aid those afflicted with the Starscourge. Gentiana did her best to help prepare her for her duties, but at this point Luna wasn’t sure if even her mother could have helped her feel ready. It hurt to look into the darkness lurking under their skin, the life draining from their eyes, sensing the agony that crippled the victims. When she’d first tenderly touched her forehead to that of one who needed healing, she knew that she wouldn’t escape unscathed. The nights that followed were tumultuous as her body battled against the blackness she’d absorbed. Those she had purged of the scourge would never know that she’d now experience the terror of the sickness as it bubbled in her throat, pain igniting every nerve in her body like a spark in a box of matches. For such occasions, her wails were not met with harsh punishment. The festering disease was enough.

By the time the sun’s light crept between the drapes, her body had calmed. Face against the comfort of cool tiles, she fingered the spine of the notebook and took solace in the hope that one day she and Noctis would end all this. It was easy to see herself unraveling at the seams under the incredible strain of her new role, reciting to herself again and again that she shouldn’t let herself need. The Oracle was meant to give, not to take. Having the noble purpose of healing inflicted people didn't do anything to lessen her suffering, but they did help remind her just how selfish her suffering was. How hard it was to battle against her desire to be loved by someone who saw her weaknesses and would still hold her near. Sometimes, there’d be long weeks where Noctis wouldn’t respond; but when she needed it most, Umbra would appear bearing his latest note. Despite his oblivion to most of her suffering, his words encouraged her, like a cool cloth upon a feverish brow. Luna’s spirit survived by the smiles of those whom she healed and the incessant sweetness of the Lucian prince. Like the moon, part of her was always hidden away to everyone, even her brother. But with Noctis, she was free to express whatever part of her that she wished upon the pages. 

He always welcomed that honesty and it was her greatest source of relief, like setting down a heavy burden at the end of a long day.

Did Prince Noctis know how beloved he was? Did he know the reason she wrote in such tiny script and filled up the margins of the notebook was to maximize space and all that they could share? Their relationship was the only thing that allowed her to be herself: a sixteen year old girl who wanted the freedom to be light of heart. There were times when Lunafreya truly believed that she could somehow manage to find happiness in the way things were, for it wasn’t her place to want for anything. She sought comfort in the knowledge of the things she’s done and the people she’d saved. But it wasn’t long before the Princess of Tenebrae realized that she did not deserve happiness.

Sixteen was much too young to properly ascend. Her body’s immaturity combined with the lack of her mother’s tutelage had brought about consequences that the girl did not know how to deal with. Lunafreya had great power over the trident and her mind, but she was largely unpracticed and not all who came to her were completely purged of the blight. The thought of the pain wracking their dying bodies due to her failure made her feel as if she deserved her anguish, vomiting blackness and letting herself moan in her wretchedness as she paced her moonlit chambers. Everything inside her had boiled into a frothing mess and she wanted to scream with the wildness of an animal: uncaging the madness that occasionally stirred within. But she suppressed such urges. The roaring voices of the angry Gods echoed through her brain in the silence of midnight, robbing her of rest and solace. There were nights in which she’d choose to go without sleep, knowing that the lifeless eyes of the unpurged afflicted would permeate her dreams. Cold sweat upon her brow, she’d use her white nightdress to wipe at the blackness that sometimes seeped from her eyes. It wasn’t until she’d been unable to pick herself up off the floor that she realized that healing others was a sacrifice of much more than her time or energy. 

Now that she had begun to hone her powers, Lunafreya was escorted by armed guards. But they were not for her protection, she knew. The barrel of a gun would nudge her forward as the Empire sent her to wherever people had gathered in search of her healing. She’d tremble at the feel of cold metal against the back of her bare arm and felt naked when her trident was confiscated when she’d finished her duties. General Caligo still came for her once in a great while, using physical force as he always did to try to remind her that she was nothing. Ravus had grown distant, joining the ranks of the Empire’s military and wearing his achievements like jewels on his crown of newfound self-importance. The loss of her brother’s heart had been one of the hardest wounds she’d endured thus far. He’d always had a soft and empathetic soul, for he’d been groomed by their parents to be a leader who was as kind as he was strong. But his kingdom had been stolen from him and Ravus had never recovered. Unlike her sibling, Lunafreya turned from any notion of pride over her powers. She knew that any gift she was given was one from the Gods, not from her own accomplishments.

Lonesome afternoons were sometimes spent staring out at the sky beyond the window pane, nursing a painful thought: perhaps she’d come to the end of her life and never get to speak face to face with Noctis again. Perhaps she hadn’t known how strongly she’d held onto this notion that one day things might return to tranquility until reality began to dig in its icy claws at last. 

In the silence, Luna began to understand the danger of focusing only on what wasn’t there. What if she came to the end of her life only to realize that she’d spent every day waiting for a reunion that would never come? What an unbearable sorrow it would be to realize that she’d never truly experienced all that she could have within each day because she’d thought of nothing but Noctis while her life was drifting away from her. But if Lunafreya drew her thoughts away from him, what hope could she have for the future? If they were separated for the rest of their days, how could she ever find peace enough to combat her hopelessness? It was with great sorrow that she realized she’d have no one with whom to share the inner workings of her heart: like an artist who labors over her beautiful work only to keep it hidden from the world. 

How exhausting it was to constantly search for any sign that life would change for the better—that she would have the liberty to do as she pleased, even if only for a day. To Lunafreya, hope had become delicate, like quivering candles in the rain. She should’ve known better: the past cannot be changed; her footsteps would remain where she’d left them.

She lit a small candle on her bedside table and rose, silken sheets sliding over her skin. Pale feet hovered over the tiles until Lunafreya stood in front of the small mirror of her vanity. The skin upon her face was taut and smooth, reflecting her youth, but the shadows in her eyes echoed wisdom and an understanding of suffering that was far beyond her years. They were the eyes that had seen the dead, blackened by the Scourge, being tidied neatly into graves. Not everyone could be saved and the thought that she was personally responsible tortured her inside. The neat lines she’d write to Noctis were pleasant, yet truthful, and she often considered writing letters to herself. Those would’ve been much less constrained: the hastily written words pouring out the lunacy and blackness that sometimes rose inside her. Something twisted that lurked in her chest made her want to record her agony and explanations of the empty feeling that swirled violently within. But she didn’t. 

In the dim, flickering light, the princess watched her reflection as she slowly raised her hand above her head. Her nightdress tickled at her knees as she extended one slender leg out to the side, toes pointed. Letting out a shaking breath, Lunafreya began her nightly ritual. Her body bent with grace, emotions pouring out of her heart and into her limbs as a stream flows steadily toward the ocean. Luna used her facial expression to convey her unrest and curved her back with the cruel beauty of tragedy. As she thought of Noctis, everything drooped heavily toward the earth and she weighted her movements as if she was underwater. Alone in the dark, she danced the bitterness of their separation, for she didn’t know if there was any better method to express the wretched pain of absence. 

… … …

Change is like the wind: occasionally it drifts along softly, gently forging forward in its endless path. But there are times where it gusts violently, shifting suddenly and forcing its way in an unexpected direction. Lunafreya’s teacup had clattered against its dish when Ravus had shared the news. The Empire had proposed a marriage between her and Prince Noctis: a promise of peace between Niflheim and Lucis, and King Regis had agreed. The princess felt as if she’d been blown off of a path of desolation and toward a direction of promise. It was rare that her brother would ask for her company, and now she knew why. He didn’t seem concerned about her future or wellbeing; it was strictly business.   
Over the years, it seemed that Ravus had gradually been afflicted by some sort of disease of character--if such a thing exists. At most, his visits had become few and far between, seldom including any sort of pleasantries and certainly never any heart felt discussion. Lunafreya wondered if he still treasured the pleasant memories of their past or if their childhood connection now meant little to him. Before the invasion of Niflheim, he’d never been difficult to read. Now, she found it almost impossible to see the gentle boy he used to be underneath his stoic face and layers of military uniform. It was only once he’d gone that she’d allowed herself to process the news.

Luna was far too steady to be giddy, though she supposed that the little girl she once was would’ve leapt for joy. The little princess who used to splash through the streams with Ravus had always possessed the courage to laugh and dream, despite the knowledge of her inherited responsibilities. She held these childhood memories so dear, for they were the only happy times in her life. But would there be beautiful days ahead? The knowledge that the Scourge was intensifying, slowly eating away at daylight and the bodies of countless people, reminded her that there would not be time for happily ever after. Noctis would need to ascend. She would need to awaken the Astrals and her body was already beginning to suffer under the strain of her duties as Oracle. She doubted she would live long enough to enjoy a marriage for any significant length of time, and she was well aware of the ultimate price he would pay according to the prophecy.

She wanted to be happy, but the truth unsettled the ground beneath her and found her wherever she tried to escape it: creeping into every hidden corner of her mind. There would be no happy ending for them. They were saviors; there was no room for selfish indulgences of the heart. And so, Lunafreya meditated upon the smiles of those whom she healed: their stories were like offerings of hope and strength poured out before her. Within them, she found cause for laughter and gratitude. When her dress arrived one day, Lunafreya ran her fingers through the ivory satin with longing.

Twelve long years had passed since her life had suddenly plunged into darkness and isolation. It was easy for her to look back now and casually number how many years had passed, but each of those days had been filled with the sort of anguish that drags out the minutes, one bleeding slowly into the next. Luna had worked so hard to earn the wisdom of the Oracle that she scarcely reflected upon the fact that her fate wasn’t one that she desired in the slightest. But it wasn’t her duty to seek her own comforts. It was her duty to provide.

Early one morning, Maria helped her don the elegant gown. Her attendant gushed over the layers of white, flitting about with measuring tape and straight pins as she assessed the fit of the bodice and adjusted the hem of her skirts. Lunafreya wanted to be excited, to grin and bubble with glee like any bride-to-be would as she tried on her wedding dress. But something was quite wrong. The empire’s reasoning behind their union had eluded her completely. Of what benefit would it serve? She was accustomed to being one of Niflheim’s performing animals, dragged out of her cage from time to time for some reason or another when it suited her captors. Of what purpose was this arrangement? Ravus would never offer such information. As far as he was concerned, all she needed to know was her orders. 

Was the emperor hoping to lure the king and the prince into the same place at the same time so that they could carry out the assassination they’d failed a dozen years ago? Did they really think that King Regis was naïve enough to believe that this was a true commitment to the proposed peace? Nevertheless, her heart wished for the freedom to enjoy her betrothal. Maria helped slide satin gloves over her forearms and placed a sparkling ornament in her hair, standing back and gasping once her look was complete. It was then that another dark thought nestled its way into her chest: what if the decree of this marriage was a burden upon the young prince? Perhaps he still communed with her strictly out of pity. His words didn’t make it seem that way, but Luna realized that she couldn't hope that he felt anything more than fond companionship. How painful it was to be in love, besotted with the boy who had filled in the gaping holes in her heart. Insecurity whispered lies, but her heart knew that Noctis was genuine. 

Finally, she allowed herself to look in the mirror and take in the sight of her wedding gown. On the outside, Lunafreya looked extravagant: as beautiful as a sunrise and just as full of promise. But inside, she felt hollow and empty in the knowledge that her wedding was little more than the empire’s tool. Even if Noctis would find pleasure in their union, her life and strength were draining from her quickly—like the sands in an hourglass—and Noctis would end up trading his life for the wellbeing of everyone on Eos. She turned her head to examine her arm, examining the intricate embroidery on her glove. Who was she to have something so beautiful? In the end, her life was drifting away from her when she felt like it might just begin, like a flower shriveling after the heat of summer. 

Countless times, her captors had told her that she had no value aside from her duties as Oracle. It was made clear to Lunafreya that she was no longer a leader to her people, nor   
a beloved sister to Ravus. As a teenager, she had closed her ears to such words. Now, her adult mind had granted her the perspective needed to interpret the venom that oozed from their mouths. They wanted to manipulate her young, vulnerable mind to make her easy to control. Luna had become powerful, learning the ancient magic afforded the Oracle and wielding it with care and restraint. Even General Caligo had finally ceased to intrude upon her under the shroud of nightfall, and she was eternally grateful for that. But some nights, when she’d sit in front of her mirror to comb out her hair before bed, Luna would have the briefest flicker of a thought that she might look up and see his reflection looming behind her.

… … …

Her hair was caked with soot and dirt stuck to the tear tracks upon her cheeks. Regis was dead, her brother was maimed, and Insomnia had fallen to its knees before the emperor of Niflheim. The whimpers that escaped her were not borne of the bleeding wounds on her legs nor from the way the straps of her sandals dug into the flesh of her feet. The King of Lucis had fallen to the same man who was responsible for the upheaval of her world so many years ago and there was nothing she could have done about it. Luna’s knuckles were squeezed white as his Majesty’s ring bit into her palm. The desperate circumstances she found herself in would not let her forget Regis’s face and how much it had changed over twelve years, weathered by time and the weight of the crystal and its protective wall.

She had never dared to dream that the peace treaty was legitimate, even in the throes of girlish fantasizing over what could have been with her dear groom. Oh, Noctis. What would he do when he discovered the fate of his father and the crown city? When her only remaining parent had been murdered and her kingdom had been usurped, there was nothing anyone could have said that would’ve comforted her. Luna thought that she had made some sort of peace with the knowledge that she was born to die: sacrificing her life for Noctis and all of Eos seemed to be a worthy cause for her suffering. However, the princess had never considered how many might die to see the prophecy fulfilled until she’d found herself in the midst of the attack on Insomnia. How many members of the Crownsguard and King’s Glaive had laid down their lives trying to keep her safe? 

Limping forward in sea of Insomnian refugees made the severity of the situation ever clearer. From her confined quarters, Luna hadn’t considered the high cost on innocent people that weren’t infected with the Scourge. How badly she wished to take away the pain and devastation at the loss of their homes, security and monarchy. But at the moment, Lunafreya was helpless in the face of her own circumstances. Time was running out. The voices of the Gods were deafening in her ear, restless as the light of each day continued to shorten, little by little. They called for the blood of the Chosen; they called for the crystal’s power. There was no time to be wasted. Before, Luna would’ve been able to easily find the strength to push forward toward her goals. But the further she fell away from her confidence, the harder it was to fly above everything that pulled at her feet.

There was no other choice: she’d travel across Lucis to seek out the Astrals, for the time had come to beseech their allegiance to the King of Light. 

Traversing Lucis made her wonder what it would’ve been like to be queen of such a place, with its deserts and swamps and lush grasslands. How strange it felt to be covered in dirt, sweat dotting her head and neck, but Lunafreya never took her freedom for granted after so many years of being kept behind bolted doors. In the face of Titan and Ramuh, it was easy to play the part of Oracle: keeping her chin high and gaze unwavering as she spoke on Noctis’s behalf. But in the evenings when Luna would tuck herself away into a cave or hide under the shelter of a drooping tree, she’d let herself tremble under the weight of her fear and the pressure of being the sole person to hold back the curse upon their star. No matter what it took, she’d lay a safe path for Noctis to follow.

Most days she felt too sick to eat and the loose fitting of her dress let her know how dire her situation truly was. She was dying. Maybe she wouldn't be if she was allowed to take her time. If she ate more than handfuls of vegetables, fruits and berries scavenged from nature, perhaps her body could stand up to the weight of her covenants. Maybe she would have been safe from such harm if her mother were here to tell her how to stop the powers of the Astrals from affecting her flesh when she summoned them. If only she could get enough sleep without having to listen in paranoia for approaching airships or hostile wildlife, perhaps she could revive her weary body. Luna would whisper pleading queries into the dark, as if she’d find the answer there.

Though her body was dying, her spirit was being renewed daily. Like her, Prince Noctis was on the run, but he still took the time to send her messages in their notebook. His notes not only let her know of his location, but gently affirmed his affection for her. The words held her gently when the wind wailed outside her shelter or the storm clouds darkened the earth and exposed her loneliness. His hasty handwriting tentatively spilled the secrets of his heart, reassuring Luna that he wasn’t writing to her out of nostalgia or familiarity alone. Luna felt guilty: letting herself indulge in such feelings wasn’t wise, but it was all she really had to find the courage to face each day. Their fates were intertwined, which was romantic its own way. But they’d be torn from each other quickly and violently when one of them died, though she couldn’t be sure of who would be the first to lose their life.  
Her ability to purify and hold back the development of the Starscourge left Luna feeling both empowered and exhausted. She fought against selfish thoughts daily, though she had to admit that somewhere along the way, her purpose had shifted more toward helping Noctis than the fate of the planet. What cursed blood their veins were holding: two souls suffocating under the crushing weight of someone else’s sins, responsible to free all of mankind. Lunafreya had stood firm in the face of it all these years like a wave-beaten rock. 

And as she forged her way through the wilderness with only the whispers of the Gods to guide her, she tried not to feel oppressed by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind like a thick summer haze. Would Noctis be able to withstand his fate once he knew his life was the price that must be paid? 

… … …

Ravus had secreted her away to Tenebrae and she would forever be grateful for the blessing of his protection. As high commander of Niflheim’s troops, her brother had risked more than his reputation in rescuing her from her travels across Lucis. The sweetness of their sacred bond as siblings had long been lost to time and suffering, but the core of their relationship seemed to still remain, though laden with dust from disuse. Ravus was no fool; he knew the price that the covenants demanded from her body and was angry that she had decided to risk everything to aid the Chosen King. Luna had begged for his help in getting the Ring of the Lucii to Noctis, but he’d refused. It was not his calling, it was hers. And while she knew he was right, she couldn’t help but cry over the weakness of her flesh and the trembling pains that shook through her bones. An immortal spirit dwelt in her frail body, like a bird in an outworn cage, and it was with remorse that she faced the fact that her days were numbered. But there was still more to do: Altissia and Leviathan awaited her. Noctis awaited her, and she would not let him down.

And now, as she stood in the sylleblossom fields that had always been so dear to her, she realized that her future seemed just as bleak as her past. Her brother continued to plead with her to halt her steps, as if she’d abandon the very thing she’d been born to do and suffered so long for in a frivolous moment. Did he really understand her so little? Lunafreya had raised her voice at him for an instant, letting her emotions get the best of her in a rare breech of character. She was embarrassed for her outburst, but it offered her the strange comfort in reminding her that underneath it all, she was still human. She was still just a person like any other: one who had hopes and sadness, dreams and anger toiling inside her. Each hot tear that burned down her cheek reflected the unbearable resentment that she wasn’t allowed to feel like an ordinary woman did. Life was insufferably cruel, but she needed to maintain her gentle strength. There were too many eyes upon her and lives depending on her steady hands, and their trust made her heart bow down as a flower after a rainstorm.

When the scent of the the flowers overtook her, Lunafreya was tempted to allow her thoughts to drift away to that familiar, faraway place where the foolish child that lived inside her dreamed of being rescued from her responsibility. But no one had ever come to save her: not from Glauca, not from Caligo, not from the anguish and torment of the Scourge. Memory and emotion surged like a tempest as she fought against the urge to scream, unable to determine exactly what it was that she wished for. Even after the fall of Tenebrae, Luna had never expected to be separated from Noctis for so long. She wanted kindness, fairness, and the opportunity to love and be loved by the only man who could soothe the longings of her heart. But Lunafreya knew that she was in no position to ask for such things.

With a terrible feeling of shame, her breath hitched with a sob, whimpering quietly as she let the misery drain out of her. Destiny was an unforgiving truth. How utterly cruel it was that while others saw her as some great pariah of hope, her existence was little more than struggling through life from day to day. Lunafreya supposed she should feel nothing but gratitude for her ability to bring hope and healing and peace to those who needed it, but there were just so many things she dreamed about that kept her focus away from the future that was in front of her. How foolish she had been to keep her hopes alive: believing that, perhaps one day, she’d be able to enjoy the simple pleasure of Noctis’s company. Luna closed her eyes to recall how his own used to look right inside her, seeing who she was beneath her title or the potential power she held. He had been the last to look at her as a dear friend.

Their mutual suffering caused them to press into one another in the years since their first meeting; the pages of their book were filled with the comforts and confidences that they both longed for. And now that the time had come for the prophecy to be fulfilled, Noctis wasn't backing down and neither could she. But was she doing this for Eos or for him? She supposed it didn't matter much, in the end. The brief, carefree days of their childhood had been lost forever and now it was time to live out her purpose. The sky was open wide before her: hues of orange and pink and blue gently blended together like paint on an artist’s brush. Lunafreya felt like another world had started to call her away from this one. Perhaps she was never really meant for Eos and belonged somewhere else. Either way, it was of no consequence, for she wouldn’t be part of this world for much longer. She would reach the end by grace and grace alone.

Luna exhaled slowly, for the clasp had finally come undone; her hopes all fell away like pearls tumbling off of their string.

… … …

Altissia was a city of indescribable beauty, but Lunafreya had to fight hard against her sorrow to see its exquisite loveliness. The city in which she ought to have been wed seemed like little more than an ornate coffin: strikingly handsome on the outside whilst holding death on the inside. The moment Luna had stepped out of the boat and into the capital of Accordo, she felt danger looming like a thick fog in every avenue and corner, lurking in the midst of cheerful and hiding behind the colorful attire. Leviathan’s spirit hissed and growled across her consciousness, hostile grumbling like the first rumbles of thunder in her mind. But she would not tremble. The days spilled into one another as she waited for Noctis to arrive. Only then would she summon the Tidemother and implore her cooperation. Titan was ill tempered and Ramuh was impatient, but Leviathan was a dangerous creature of wrath and ire. Surely she would require more of Luna’s strength than she felt she was able to give.

When the prince finally arrived with his retinue, she hoped that they’d have to opportunity to meet face to face before they performed the rite. But Luna knew better than to expect such a luxury. Armed guards watched her every move, for she was too dangerous to deserve privacy or basic respect that should’ve been afforded to the Oracle. The morning of the rite, she was prodded out of her quarters by the gun barrels of armed guards. A long time ago, the sight of a firearm in her face would have frightened her, but not anymore. Lunafreya didn’t blink as she pushed her way past the crowding of rifles trained on her chest, eyes burning with defiance. There was no reason to be afraid; nothing they could do to her could hurt her now. She kept herself from thinking small, bitter thoughts that were the result of years of emotional pain and physical exhaustion. They were not of her character; they did not reflect the woman her mother had raised her to become.

The enormous gathering of people that had come to hear her speak made her heart swell with gratitude and break with sorrow at the same time. They turned to her in their uncertainty, but didn’t know that she was quite lost, herself. As Lunafreya spoke words of hope into the microphone, her eyes restlessly wandered through the crowd. When she saw him, her world seemed slow to a stop. Instantly, she revived, like flowers in water, and gravity fell about her shoulders like a heavy robe. Her voice did not falter, but her heart began to beat with a fierceness she hadn’t known before. For the first time in her life, Lunafreya felt self-conscious. Would he see the dark circles under her eyes from dozens of sleepless, agonizing nights? Could he see how hard she struggled to keep her posture straight as the weight of her calling threatened to snap her spine?  
After how deeply they’d come to understand one another; she prayed he would be able to see past her pallid complexion and the dark veins that had begun to show themselves on her temples and back of her hands. Beneath her elegant clothing, regal mannerisms, and title as Oracle, her life had no complexity at all, but was as simple as any other woman’s. How badly Lunafreya wanted to be the subject of his affections. Most women may put aside other aspirations to pursue marriage and motherhood and other pleasures of the soul, but she did not share in that freedom.

So when he smiled at her from afar, it was all she could do to maintain her composure and give him a gentle smile and nod of her own.

… … …

Hardship, to Luna, was like the strong force of a gale or receding tide, ripping strength from her body and optimism from her heart, one by one until there was nothing left. As rainclouds prowled overhead, she exhaled into the strengthening winds and let them carry her broken whispers out to sea. Standing upon the alter of the Tidemother was not the proper time for self-pity or doubt. She was Lunafreya Nox Flueret: blood of the Oracle, Princess of Tenebrae. She had the ability to curve words like daggers or use them to soothe like running water. She was a beacon of hope and a powerful wielder of ancient magic; men both praised her and trembled before her. And so, she would forge this convenient no matter the cost. Noctis needed her and she would shine. Drawing in a slow breath, Luna began to sing the Song of the Stars.

She felt ridiculous, posturing before a goddess with her frail, fading body. But the tides obeyed the moon, and Leviathan would not get the best of her. As the goddess’s voice trembled through her core, Lunafreya looked up at the imperial ships hovering overhead, marring the grey wash of the cloud cover. And when she responded to the Tidemother’s threats, she spoke with confidence, for it was her mother’s breath in her lungs. Her matriline had passed on all their collective wisdom to prepare her for this very moment and she felt their strength in her bones, deflecting Leviathan’s intimidations with the shield they provided. Luna refused to let fear cloud her mind; if it did, it would be impossible for her to focus on the task at hand. 

And suddenly, Noctis appeared, demanding the goddess’s power and fighting her when she refused. Lunafreya watched with her heart in her throat, feeling useless from her position on solid ground. The waves were wild, washing over her feet and carrying debris onto the altar, making her fight for balance as she watched her friend struggle against his foe. And when he was injured, he fell to the earth like a shooting star, landing much too far away from her to see the extent of his injuries. With hurried breath, she tried to calculate how long it would take for her to close the distance between them. Her attempt to run was cut short, her knees buckling under the weakness of her body. Hands and knees upon the pavement, Luna felt Ardyn come up beside her. His presence always made her blood run cold and the hair on the back of her neck stand up, announcing his existence before she could see him.

The Chancellor had always unnerved her, even as a small girl who had yet to know his sinister story. His shadow fell over Luna as she kneeled in her tattered white dress, the wind whipping his dark hair wildly around his face. He asked her about the Ring of the Lucii, smiling with all the tenderness of a parent as she looked up at him, sea spray stinging her eyes.

The knife pierced her suddenly, like the fang of a venomous snake. In that moment, any of her remaining plans for the future fell like a dress undone. Blade lodged in her gut, it immediately became clear to Luna why Ardyn had proposed their betrothal. Somehow, he’d known how much she and Noctis treasured one another’s companionship. Her murder would be used to emotionally manipulate Noctis, holding them all like puppets on strings. Lunafreya wanted to do something meaningful, but it was almost impossible to think in spite of the pain radiating from her abdomen. With blurred vision, she tried to look him in the eye, gently grasping his wrist in an attempt to use her healing magic to pull the darkness from inside him. If she could free him from it, maybe it could change the outcome of this struggle. It didn’t matter if she absorbed more of the blight than she could handle, because Luna knew she wouldn’t survive to see another morning. The jarring smack to the side of her face was forceful enough to knock her on her side. He was gone before she had the chance to speak.

Leviathan’s roar shook her to action, for the goddess had spotted Noctis’s lifeless form amongst the rubble. She smacked her jaws, bearing her pointed teeth as she prepared to swallow him, and there was really only one thing she could do. Grasping her trident, she summoned the power of Kings to revive and aid him. Dizzy with pain and loss of blood, Luna was relieved as she saw him rise into the air: revived and surrounded by magic. Noctis was magnificent. Laying upon the alter in a pool of salt water and blood, she was tempted to let herself fade into the blackness at the corners of her vision. But she kept her gaze upon him, relishing the fact that she could see him in the flesh while loathing the realization that it would be the last time. Noctis had grown so much, in body and in spirit, and she was so very proud. He would be alright on his own. Wouldn’t he? Leviathan screamed into the sky as the King of Light landed his finishing blow.

When Noctis collapsed once again, he came down to rest beside her, and she pulled herself to his side so that she could press her forehead to his and heal what she could. But Leviathan was not finished; her mighty roar shook both water and stone, and Luna gathered Noctis’s unconscious form in her arms. With the last of her strength, she summoned Titan for protection against the goddess as she submitted to the injuries inflicted by the Chosen King. Her limbs were trembling and her mind was fuzzy, but Lunafreya did not waste a second. She cradled his head to her chest, keeping him from harm, as water and rock fell around her. Relishing the feeling of the weight of him in her arms, it was hard to believe that the day of their reunion had come at last. It wasn’t quite how she’d expected it, but she’d treasure each second all the same.

How bittersweet to know that when he woke up, she would no longer be in this world. The pain was starting to fade now, and Lunafreya rested her face against his dark hair. She took those short moments to whisper things to his sleeping form that she’d prayed she’d have the chance to tell him in person. So many years and secrets they’d shared. Her evanescent existence didn’t bother her as long as he wouldn’t forget her. She watched his peaceful face as she reflected upon her life, realizing that it was always his name that danced across her smiles. When Luna closed her eyes, she saw their happy days together in vivid detail. There was no regret, simply remembrance and acknowledgement of how close they’d come to the dream that was never meant to be fulfilled.

But Luna had the feeling that they’d meet again in the next life. They’d be granted with a second chance as a reward for all their suffering. It was the only thing she could believe that would justify the injustice of the burdens they’d been born with—the only thing that would let her peacefully accept death’s embrace.  
In the end, it seemed death was a simple thing and she was grateful to be near Noctis when her time had come. Luna had lived until her time for living was done, and there wasn’t much more to it than that. She barely felt herself slump forward onto the pavement, still carefully holding onto Noctis. Her pain melted away as winter’s frost, like a snowflake lost in the ocean. In those moments, all the grieving voices within her seemed to fall silent at last. The warmth was fading, the water rising around her. Darkness rose from the depths and harkened to her.

None of us can escape destiny; every road leads to an end. These thoughts comforted Lunafreya as she was rocked into eternal sleep by the lull of the deep.

.............................................  
 **A/N: So I’m not really sure where I was going with this; it was the result of wanting to make an argument against the common opinion that Luna had no depth to her character. Of course I took artistic liberty in some of the details, but I feel that there was so much about her story and development that is looked over by FFXV fans. In my opinion, this is the fault of the developers for sweeping her development under the carpet and being lazy about crafting her romantic relationship with Noctis. I was really craving some detail and depth to their connection that SquareEnix didn’t seem very willing to give.**

**What did you guys think about the characterization of Lunafreya? Were you able to identify the subtle romance between Noctis and Luna?**

**Thank you for reading!  
**


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